


But Then It Overflows

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:25:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7051330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Words hang unspoken above them. Despite everything, they can see the mountains and valleys, oceans and rivers, deserts and skies of each other's' homes, and that in itself serves as enough proof that together, they might be able to make it out alive.</p><p>---</p><p>After a meeting, Japan and America spend some quality time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Then It Overflows

New York City. Here, the streets are bustling with activity. Taxis are being flagged down, hot dogs are being purchased, and important-looking businessmen are trying to simultaneously drive in the crowded streets and shout aggressively into their phones. There are mothers counting down the days until their youngest children turn eighteen, fathers pushing through the crowds to get home in time for the Yankees game, and stray animals picking up scraps left by irresponsible humans.

Somewhere within the tall skyscrapers of this place there’s an apartment building, and somewhere in that apartment building the representations of Japan and the United States are practically crawling to the latter’s door, though in this space they are best known as Alfred Fitzgerald Jones and Kiku Honda. As soon as Alfred’s key is in the lock and the tell-tale click sounds off the brightly-lit walls of the hallway, both crash unceremoniously into the room and immediately give off their respective sighs of relief.

“That was _terrible_ ,” Alfred says first, pressing his back against the door to close it and frantically trying to rip his tie off. “How can Syria be so _stupid_? Like anyone really thinks she can get away with the shit she’s pulling--was she born fucking _yesterday_? And don’t even get me started on China. What the shit was that? Yeah, I get it, we all owe you, like, six bajillion dollars! God, I remember--will this fucking tie get off of me--I remember when _I_ was the one everyone had debt to, and look what happened _then_! World War _fucking_ Two!”

Kiku has no trouble toeing his shoes off and gracefully setting them to the side, as well as getting his tie off and unbuttoning his shirt, so as soon as he’s able, he guides Alfred’s angry hands away from his own throat and works the offensive garment off of him with ease. He bites his tongue at the younger man’s rant, afraid to mention how Syria is much older than America, or how it was America’s lack of proper economic protection that caused the stock-market crash; no use making Alfred angrier than he is, especially at one of his most important allies.

“Thanks,” Alfred mumbles once he burns himself out. His face is all red from shouting and overexertion--Kiku must have zoned out as soon as Alfred mentioned the second World War. Or purposely _tuned_ him out. (Probably purposely tuned him out.)

“You have got something on your cheek.” With two tiny hands on Alfred’s shoulders, Kiku goes up on his toes and presses his lips to Alfred’s right cheek. Mustard. Likely from the dinner they got. As soon as it was revealed that Kiku and Alfred were going out to eat, everyone else in the world meeting thought it would be a wonderful idea to continue their discussion with them, and so their date was ruined by a group of rowdy nations yelling at each other from across the restaurant. Needless to say, the workers were all very perplexed.

Alfred sets to kissing Kiku then, his hands latching on to the smaller man’s ass and giving a firm squeeze. Japan expected it, really, but that doesn’t stop him from giving a very masculine squeak.

“Should get out of these clothes,” Alfred suggests, already a little breathless. His chubby fingers release Kiku and fumble with the buttons of his white shirt, and Kiku makes his way over to Alfred’s bedroom.

 

If the bed wasn’t messy before, it is now, the blankets strewn about and the sheets littered with questionable stains. Both Alfred and Kiku have taken their baths and dressed themselves in their night clothes and are lying comfortably on the mattress. America has his arm over the older nation’s body and is pressing his lips half-heartedly into Kiku’s side, where his white tank-top has ridden up a bit. Japan has one hand sandwiched between his head and the pillow and the other hand in Alfred’s wet hair, scratching his scalp lightly the way he knows that the younger man enjoys.

A sigh escapes Kiku’s lips. He’s tired but he doesn’t want to miss out on enjoying this moment, spent from a few rounds of adult content and contentedly sharing a space of intimacy with one of his most trusted allies. He wishes he could say that their relationship has been like this forever, but even the most basic of people know that that is not true; when America first sailed in with Matthew Perry and demanded that Japan and his boss reopen their borders, he was terrified at the aspect of westernization. But America was comforting and reassuring, and held his hand through the process. They were allies through and through… up until…

Alfred takes his lips off of Kiku and speaks against his skin. Gross. “Pretty soon China’s gonna… pull some stupid shit. More tariffs. More _taxes_.” He sighs, turns his head to look at Kiku. “Everything’s gonna fall apart, and he _knows_ that. Idiot doesn’t even have military allies. And _Syria_ , whatever the hell she’s doin’ over there. It’s going to be another World War.”

“You decide that _now_ is the most opportune time to discuss this.”

Tariffs. Taxes. Japan’s all too familiar with that. During the time of the stock-market crash, during the second World War, his country relied heavily on exporting goods to other countries. When America came up with the brilliant idea to produce his own products and cut the rest of the world out of his economy, Kiku suffered, along with many other fellow nations. (The economy wasn’t the only reason for the decline into warfare, but most things in the world are definitely about money.) At least if it happens again, Kiku knows he’s on the right end of the bomb.

Alfred hums. To be fair, he’s been biting his tongue all day, trying to keep from getting into a fight with another country. Even so, he knows he’s being unreasonable, bringing Japan into this when all the older man wants to do is relax for once. They don’t have to keep working. Sometimes nations forget that it’s alright to simply listen to the busy sounds of New York and enjoy existence.

Kiku’s skin is warm where Alfred is touching him. America’s hand goes up the man’s shirt, feeling for the sake of it. His fingers brush against the marred and bumpy skin of Japan’s scars and he feels his heart break all over again. Gently, he kisses the spot, eyebrows furrowed and nostrils flaring. “‘M sorry,” he says quietly.

Kiku, having had his eyes closed, peeks at Alfred. “For what?”

“You know.”

At this, Japan flomps his head back against the pillow and lets out an amused chuckle. “America, again? How many times do I have to tell you that--”

“But it’s not alright,” Alfred interrupts, as is American fashion. He props himself up and hovers over Kiku, and his eyes are all glossed over like a puppy. Japan has been through this song and dance before and sits up himself, much to the dismay of Alfred. He scrambles to get closer to Kiku. “It’s not alright because I killed so many people, Japan. I almost killed _you_.”

“America--”

“And it scares me to think that someone who literally makes half the shit I _live_ for might be caught at the wrong end of another World War. You _trust_ China, just like you trusted me, and I _ruined_ it. And sure I know that China’s not gonna pull that because he knows I’ll nuke him to death…” At that, Kiku tenses. “Ah, shit, I mean--”

“ _America._ ”

“Your alliance means so much to me. Our shows are basically all anime now, you know that? And I fucking _love_ Super Mario, and hentai, God, even with all the weird tentacle shit there is. I think Osaka is great, I think your cities are beautiful, and your sky--dammit I can see your sky _in your eyes, Kiku_ \--”

“Alfred!”

At that, Alfred shuts up and stares open-mouthed at Kiku. To anyone else, it’s actually not all that attractive, but seeing how passionate America gets over something so foolish as the thought that there _might_ be another war makes Kiku’s heart flip--there’s likely a firework show going on in Tokyo now. Alfred’s hand winds up at the scar on Kiku’s front again, and then slowly wraps around his torso to touch the one on his back. Two marks. Two devastating marks that almost killed him.

Kiku’s not very good with words, not expressive like Alfred is. That’s what makes them fit together like two puzzle pieces; where Alfred is loud and emotional, Kiku is quiet and gathered, and both of them feed off of one another’s personality traits like mosquitoes. Maybe someday, with Alfred’s guidance, Kiku will be able to say the words that hang heavy on his tongue, but for now all he can do is cup America’s face with two hands and look into his eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out. “It must be raining in California,” Kiku says, using his thumb to wipe away the tear that falls from Alfred’s eye. Japan can see America’s great cities too--sometimes it’s the White House in DC, sometimes he can see Heinz Field in Pennsylvania, and for a moment Kiku catches a glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge, clouds hanging high above and shrouding the beautiful view in darkness. It’s the best that Kiku can say without giving too much away, and it’ll have to do for Alfred.

Words hang unspoken above them. Despite everything, they can see the mountains and valleys, oceans and rivers, deserts and skies of each other's' homes, and that in itself serves as enough proof that together, they might be able to make it out alive.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have found any mistakes, or if you like the story, or if you hate the story, please comment! Authors thrive on the reviews of their readers.


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